Ginger Simpson's Blog, page 66

Friday Freebits with Ginger Simpson #frifreebits

Preface:  Remember, Cynthia thought she saw something suspicious going on at the dumpster?  She's read there's a serial killer loose in her neighborhood...could he be closer than she thinks?





He watched the couple disappear from sight, inched his door shut then leaned against it. He placed a cigarette in his mouth and struck a match. The smell of sulfur hung in the air. What a disgusting display he’d just witnessed. A chuckle, sounding evil even to him, escaped his puckered lips as he held the fire to the tobacco end and watched the Camel come to life. 
The way they'd laughed and carried on while he peeked through the door. She was a looker, that blonde from upstairs, but then she probably knew it. He could tell by the way she batted her eyes and flaunted her curves at her unsuspecting victim. Her actions made him sick to his stomach. 

The sun had climbed higher in the sky and left his room virtually dark. He moved to turn on the light and pondered saving the poor schmuck who'd been with the bitch. So many blondes and so little time. But, ridding the world of women like her was his responsibility and he'd take care of her soon, very soon. 
Buy Link:  My Amazon page

A Page Straight From Roseanne Dowell #apagestraightfrom

Another Day byRoseanne Dowell

Someone once said a hangover felt like a sharp spear of light, slicing your eyeballs out of their sockets and leaving every nerve rubbed raw, while a hundred drummers played in your head, complete with cymbals. I couldn’t remember who said it, but I could attest to the truth of it. The room spun. My stomach churned, and my mouth tasted like sour milk. I squinted against the bright sunlight. Darn, why hadn’t I pulled the shades? What time was it anyway?  Rolling over and lifting my head just high enough to look at the alarm clock, I tried to focus. My eyes hurt just looking at the digital numbers.Ugh, eight o’clock already.Slumping back down onto the soft mattress, I pressed my fingertips into my temples. Rotten headache, served me right. Had I really drank a half bottle of wine?  God, I had drunk so much and barely remembered anything from last night. Anything that is, except Paul’s hands all over me. Oh Lord, Paul. Memory of last night flashed through my mind.What had I done? Trying to block out the memory, I pulled the sheet over my head, and inched my way to the other side of the king-sized bed, glad for the coolness of the soft cotton sheets. What had possessed me last night?  I wasn’t some sex starved teen. I was married for cripes sake.Oh God, how would I face Andrew?Tears stung my eyes. Suddenly, my actions from last night became all too clear. How could I have done this? Just because Andrew had been inattentive and away on business a lot didn’t justify having sex with another man.I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and groaned. What attracted me to Paul anyway? He wasn’t even my type.  What the hell does a forty-two year old woman want with a twenty-eight year old? Hardly even a man. Still a kid.  Young enough to almost be my son.Stupid, stupid, stupid! I hated that I had given in. Hated the guilt that seeped into me. I’d never be able to live with this.Sexy though Paul was, with his black curly hair and tanned muscular body, we had absolutely nothing in common. Paul, single, athletic and outgoing, bordered almost on the point of being crude. Oh, he treated everyone polite enough, and all the women at the club fawned all over him. Maybe that was the problem — he acted like God’s gift to women.So what in the world made me give into his seduction?  Clearly, I hadn’t been thinking straight.“Thinking straight?” I covered my head with the pillow. “Honey, you weren’t thinking at all.” My voice sounded harsh, raspy. I rolled over, eased myself up, sat on the edge of the bed, and pushed back the wave of nausea and dizziness. “Pull yourself together, girl. You have to think this through.” Think, I couldn’t even focus. And how was I going to face Andrew when he came home later? I wasn’t good at lying, never had been. Andrew would guess the minute he saw me. Damn, damn, damn, what had I done?
Another Day is available from Amazon 

SATURDAY'S ROUND ROBIN - Rita Karnopp

SATURDAY'S ROUND ROBIN featuring RITA KARNOPP
What is your favorite time and place to read?  I read anywhere ~ anytime I can fit it in!  Grocery line, doctor’s office, breaks or lunch at work.  My favorite place to read is in the evening, in my living room with the fireplace cracking and a cup of Café’ Carmel Keurig style. 
How about writing time? This is a little trickier!  LOL  I have learned to write with kids running around or with people talking and walking by my cubical at work during my lunch hour.  My favorite time to write early Saturday mornings . . . Saturday afternoons . . . heck anytime I can sit at my clean desk and write.
Do you have to make time?  I work a full-time job, so yes, when I set a deadline date I also set a writing schedule.  That will be marks on the calendar that say 25% done with WIP, 50%, 75% and date finished 100%.  I am a stickler about deadline dates, so it’s rare for me to miss one.  It takes self-discipline to write, and without setting goals and deadlines ~ I think it’s too easy to procrastinate and not get the job done.

Do you have a ritual or is your plan helter-skelter? I had a quilting teacher who followed the Swiss-cheese method to completing tasks: Make a hole here, and sometime later a hole there; keep repeating this until the whole thing is complete. What's your method?  This Swiss-cheese method would send me over the edge.  I’m a ‘make a plan and follow it’ kind of girl.  I know the average time it takes me to write a chapter – so I plan it out ~ and mark my calendar when I need to reach quarterly goals . . . and hit my finished deadline.  I believe I have to plan and set goals to reach them.  It’s like planning a trip from Montana to Wisconsin.  I wouldn’t just jump into my car without knowing the route, hotels, costs, etc.  Same with planning to write a book; what is the plot – goal to reach at the end – what are mid-marks, ideas to be weaved into the beginning – middle – end?  It’s all about setting out on an adventure . . . with the keyboard and me . . . my goal – to write the best book I’ve ever written. 


Rita Karnopp ~ Multi-published author Rita Karnopp knew at a very young age she wanted to be a writer – and penned her first story at age sixteen. She is drawn to the history of the Native American and strives to bring alive the authenticity of a time past.  Whether writing suspense, Indian historicals, or contemporary romance, Rita enjoys bringing excitement and the enduring power of love to her stories. Rita currently resides in Montana with her husband and their loveable Cockapoo named Gema.       When she isn’t reading, writing or doing research, Rita enjoys making dream catchers, gold panning, crystal or sapphire digging, rafting, fishing, canoeing, and spending time with her children and grandchildren.Also find Rita at:

Facebook: rita.karnopp@facebook.com
LinkedIn: rita karnopp
Blog: http://mizging.blogspot.com/
Contact her at ritakarnopp@bresnan.net
Whispering Spirits

Devastated by her boyfriend’s murder, Summer Timber Wolf, Niipo Ómahkapi'si, goes back to Browning, Montana to take care of her Blackfeet grandmother. That choice finds her living in the ways of the old ones in a tipi on the shores of St. Mary’s River in the shadow of the Chief Mountains. Her Nah’ah tells her to listen to the whispering spirits of her ancestors. They are her shield, her past, her present and her future. Summer, however, is not so easily convinced.

It doesn’t take long before Summer realizes they’re not alone. Has her boyfriend’s killer found them? To protect her grandmother, Summer trusts their scout and protector, Cameron Running Crane. Soon she doubts her decision and wonders if he’s the kind of killer we instinctively fear the most; a loved one.

The truth will be revealed in time . . . what she doesn’t know is who will survive.
SATURDAY'S ROUND ROBIN:A.J. Maguire  http://ajmaguire.wordpress.com/Geeta Kakade http://geetakakade.blogspot.com/
Margaret Fieland http://www.margaretfieland.com/blog1/
Skye Taylor  http://www.skye-writer.com/
Marci Baun  http://www.marcibaun.com/
Fiona McGier http://www.fionamcgier.com/
Connie Vines http://connievines.blogspot.com/
Beverley Bateman http://beverleybateman.blogspot.ca/
Rita Karnopp  http://www.mizging@blogspot.com
Rachael Kosnski http://the-doodling-booktease.tumblr.com/
Helena Fairfax  http://helenafairfax.com/
Heidi M. Thomas http://heidiwriter.wordpress.com/
Ginger Simpson http://www.cowboykisses.blogspot.com/
Rhobin Courtright http://www.rhobinleecourtright.com/

Friday Freebits with Ginger Simpson #frifreebits

Preface:  Cynthia has already become acquainted with her neighbor, a San Francisco Police Officer.  They've met on the way to the dumpster, and Alex is now helping her take out the trash.  As you can see...Cyn's mind is elsewhere at the moment:



Once in the alley, Cynthia flashed back to the building Superintendent and his suspicious behavior. She fought the urge to dig for the bundle he'd deposited, and almost laughed. Wouldn't dumpster diving make a great first impression on her handsome neighbor? 
Alex snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Can I have your other bag or have you become attached to it?" 
"I'm sorry," she said, handing it to him. "I guess I drifted off somewhere." 
Alex took hold of her elbow. "Garbage delivered, mission accomplished." 
She chuckled as they walked back into the building. "Next time I hope you take me some place that smells a little better." 
She noticed the slightly ajar first-floor apartment door as they ascended the stairs, but didn't mention it. For the first time since she'd arrived, she felt safe. 
You can pick up your copy via my Amazon page.

A Page Straight from Roseanne Dowell #apagestraightfrom

All In The FamilybyRoseanne Dowell

Mama always used to say, “This too shall pass.”But not this time, Mama – this time Jessica Roberts was in a heck of a mess. She paced the small jail cell, waiting for the chief.  How could anyone even think she killed Jake Warren? She was a Judge for cripe sake. Not like she could kill anyone anyway. “Hey, don’t I get a phone call?”Nothing, no answer as usual. Damn rookie cop was gonna pay for this. How dare he ignore her? A night in the cell made her itchy, like a million bugs crawled all over her.  She ran her fingers through her hair and pulled out a handful of gray hair.  The rate her hair fell out, she’d be bald by time she was sixty-six. When this was all over she’d have to see what the problem was. But that was the least of her worries. All she wanted now was a hot shower and a warm bed.  And where the hell was Jim Landry anyway?What kind of police chief goes fishing in the middle of the week?  Jessica rubbed her wrists where Officer Sanders handcuffed her. Handcuffed, how humiliating.  Worse part, he seemed to take pleasure in making sure they were real snug too. Real smart ass, that one. Didn't he know who she was?Oh he knew all right, that’s why he took such pleasure.  Pay back because she reproached him in her court room when he testified in that hit and run case. Too smart for his own good. Cocky attitude and all.Jessica fingered the button in her pocket. It was a clue, and she shouldn't have picked it up from the crime scene, but it was in her hand when Sanders came along. She barely had enough time to drop it in her pocket when he grabbed her arms and slapped the cuffs on her.Darn, she wished she knew what Jake had wanted. So secretive calling the way he had and asking her to meet him in that alley. Good lord, no better than thugs. What was it he said, something about police corruption and he couldn't talk to Landry about it.  What in the hell did that mean? Landry was the most honest cop she knew - Wouldn't cheat a store clerk out of a penny.“Jess, what the hell’s going on?” Landry’s voice boomed through the jail.“About time you got here. How should I know what’s going on? Someone killed Jake Warren, and that punk out there seems to think it was me.”“Hmm.” Chief Landry rubbed his unshaven chin. “Well everyone in town knows you and Jake didn't see eye to eye.”“Jim Landry, you can’t believe for one minute that I had anything to do with his murder.” Jessica glared at the Chief.  “No, we didn't see eye to eye, but you can’t possibly believe I killed him. Good Lord, Jim you know me better than that.” Of all the nerve, even as a joke that wasn't funny. “Come on open the door - get me out of here.”“Well now, I’d like to do that, Jess, but see, you've been booked, and we got to follow procedure. You know the proper channels.” He unlocked the door and motioned to her. “Come on, we’ll talk in my office.”Procedure, my eye. Proper channels. She knew damned good and well Jim could let her go if he wanted to.  She didn't like this. Not one little bit. She followed him into his office, relieved to at least be out of the cell, for the moment anyhow. He handed her a cup of hot coffee. She sipped it, relishing the aroma while it warmed her. Never knew coffee to taste so good.
All in the Family is available from Amazon.

Is Being An Author Detrimental to your Health? - Ginger Simpson

www.dietdoctor.comThink about the topic?  How much did you weigh when you started writing?  How much do you weigh now?  I spent years as an Administrative Assistant, which was a very sedentary job, and then retired so I could spent countless hours in front of my computer or on the sofa with my laptop.  Needless to say, activity moved way down to the bottom of my priority list, and the pounds continued to add up.

I know what I eat is not the problem, because I don't tolerate solids well.  My husband says I pick like a bird, but that's because of scar tissue that's formed and I have trouble chewing things enough to get them to pass through my esophogas.  My body is in starvation mode and hangs onto every calorie I put into it, and with no activity to work off those calories, my hips grew as wide as my office chair.

Being an author for most of us is a passion, but we must remember to find time for our health.  I don't make resolutions because they are usually a dismal failure for me, but this year, I did resolve to put ME first.  So, I'm not giving up writing, I'm going to try to be more time-oriented and work in my creative juices around walking or attending water aerobics.  Instead of empty caloried foods, I'm imbibing in protein shakes and I have to say, I feel much better.

I started exercising already, and I've lost nearly 30 pounds.  I've been a bad girl this week because of appointments, but next week, it's back to the three day grind of adding some sort of activity into my life.  I'd like to stick around for another several years and keep doing what I love.  Besides, I have a lot of stories started in my WIP folder that need finishing.

So, do yourself a favor.  Although you love to write, find some time in your day to make yourself a healthier author.  It's a new year, and time for a new start.

Friday Freebits with Ginger Simpson #frifreebits

I started a new book last week.  If you want to go back and check the info I shared...here's the link:
http://mizging.blogspot.com/2015/01/friday-freebits-with-ginger-simpson_9.html


Here's another "freebit" from Culture Shock :

She hummed as she went about the rest of her Saturday cleaning. Still, in the back of her mind, she wished she lived somewhere more presentable. How was she going to explain this rat hole without being embarrassed? She stood back and assessed the drabness. Maybe if she planned lots of fun things, they wouldn't have to spend much time at The Cairns.
She took a deep breath. "Stop it Cynthia! Kevin and Sara know you're just starting out. They won't be expecting the Ritz!" She laughed. They also wouldn't be expecting her to talk to herself as much as she did lately. 
Armed with her bottle of window cleaner, she pushed aside the tattered rags masquerading as curtains. Once her checkbook was back in the black she planned to buy some new ones. There was no use asking the super about replacements. He hadn't even fixed her lock. 
She misted the glass then wiped it dry. Why she bothered she didn't know. It must have been years since the outside was cleaned. So many water spots made it look as though she hadn’t touched the pane, but there wasn’t much to look at in the littered alley below. The scenic view fit the rest of the motif. 
She leaned in. Movement caught her eye in the form of someone seemingly pilfering through the trash bin. Maybe one of the vagrants she passed every day on her way to the station? 
She wasn't used to seeing so many bums and homeless people on the street, but this man didn't look like one of those types. At least she considered the person a “him.” Something vaguely familiar niggled at her--perhaps his frame, his hair. What was it? She squinted through the blotchy glass. 
He bundled something inside a blue wrapper then, glancing side-to-side, he poked around in the trash, appearing to move things about before tossing his package into the dumpster. He almost looked to be hiding something, and when he turned, she recognized the building super. 
You can find Culture shock on Amazon and Barnes & Noble.
Books We Love gave me the opportunity to breath new life into "Beside Myself."  The book was originally published only in paperback and not read by many people other than a few reviewers.  This is one of the snippets I saved because it really touched my heart.
"This is one of the most entertaining suspense novels I have ever read.  I do not however, recommend reading it at your desk on your lunch break because it is just too difficult to keep the laughter inside."
Keely SkillmanReviewer for Karen Find Out About New Books and Coffee Time Romance (5 cups)

Granny Panties - Ginger Simpson

I first shared this post in 2009, but with a different picture.  You'll still get the point.  :)


forums.mtbr.comMy friend, Rita, shared a joke today about sayings things you wish you could take back. She reminded me, not of something I'd said, but something that was said TO me. I can laugh about it now, but at the time, it wasn't all that funny. :)

I'd worked with a woman for years, and she came in one Monday morning, discussing her recent shopping trip and all the year-end bargains she'd found. While discussing her purchases, the topic turned to the panties she bought. Her dialog went something like this:

"I bought the same panties I've been getting for years. Same size as always, and I got them home, took a shower and put on a pair. I was shocked, absolutely shocked. I checked the label twice to make sure they were my size, but although the tag said they were, they hung on me. They were huge. The legs gapped, the seat sagged, and the waistband was evidently made to fit someone obese. I should have held them up before I bought them. I certainly would have noticed something wrong, because I don't think I've ever seen anything so big in my life."

Without blinking an eye, she turned to me and said. "Do you think you could wear them?"

Although I was taken aback by her comment, I swallowed my pride and quickly responded, "Well, if I can't, I can probably cover my car with them."

The sad ending to the story: They fit!!!

A Page Straight From Jamie Hill #APageStraightFrom

 Time to Kill by Jamie Hill. Book 2 in the Witness Security Series.

A couple of hours later, after Jordan had eaten the donut that Olivia brought her anyway, she glanced up to see their chief escorting a man into the office. Something familiar about him, she swiveled her chair to get a better look. Tall and slender, with spiky light brown hair, he sported a familiar, sexy little cleft in the middle of his chin.
She panicked. Rhodes wouldn’t have. He couldn’t have. No. He. Did. Not.

Pushing away from her desk, she hurried to the break room before either of them spotted her. With her back against the wall, she fumbled in her pocket for her phone and texted Doug.

He’s here. OMG!

Realizing she was being cryptic, she added,
Pierce. Then, Nick Pierce is here.

She waited. And waited. Damn it! Doug always had his phone on him. Unless he was sleeping. Maybe the baby was keeping them up at night. Damn it!

Ben entered the room and refilled his coffee cup.

“Ben! I need you to run interference for me. Go out there and distract Rhodes and that other man. I just need to grab my purse and get out of here.”

He looked at her like she was insane. “What are you talking about? I’ve got a meeting in ten minutes.” With an apologetic shrug, he walked out.

Her phone vibrated and she glanced at the screen. Doug had texted her back.

No freaking way! Wish I was there to run interference for you.

Jordan thought she might cry.

Me too, she typed back. I don’t know what to do.

He replied, I have a few thoughts, but can’t put them in writing. Might be used against me in a trial.

She smiled and typed, No shit. A moment of hesitation, then she added, I’m scared.

His reply was instantaneous. Want me to come in? Go hide somewhere and I’ll be there as soon as I can.

Jordan brushed a tear from her cheek. Love you for saying that, but no thanks. Not going to hide. She inhaled deeply to bolster herself, then blew out the breath. Thank you. Go kiss that baby. Talk soon. She pocketed her phone.

A mirror hung on the opposite wall and she moved in front of it to check her makeup. Nothing had smeared, thankfully. Before she could decide what to do next, a voice from the past sounded behind her.

“Beautiful as ever, Jo.”

A January release, look for it on Jamie's Amazon page.

FINALLY...Yellow Moon by Ginger Simpson

www.thecallofthebride.com I was inspired by my love of western historical romances to write Yellow Moon's story.  Who is she?
Yellow Moon is a young Lakota maiden who accompanies her family to the traditional Sun-Dance held anually by all the tribes of the Sioux.  They meet, mingle, find spouses, and on the last day, braves who choose to participate are tethered to a tree by skewers in their chests  and dance until the skin breaks free.

Sounds barbaric, doesn't it?  Honestly, it's a tribute Indian men make to the Great Spirit, Wakan Tanka, thanking them for past blessings and hoping to garner futures ones...like plentiful buffalo.  To think, we just pray to give thanks and request strength.  I don't think I could endure the pain that Sun Dancers experience, so I'd be happy that there are lesser roles for participants.  Of course, in the story, I also touched on the women's function at the dances.  I think the biggest lure to the festival was all the feasting and celebrating that went on.  No matter who you are, parties are fun!

I love American Indian history, and my fondness for the Lakota proves I must have been one in another life.  I checked my chest for scars and I didn't find any, so I must have been a chicken back then, too.

Hope you'll read Yellow Moon's story...and enjoy it!  It's available on my Amazon page.

Cover by Michelle Lee